


The Way Back

by Kaneko



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaneko/pseuds/Kaneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, all of Jack's stories were about sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the Home Challenge on tw_flashfic. Many thanks to Julad, as always.

At first, all of Jack's stories were about sex. He'd slept with robots, with aliens, with triplets. He'd hiked on ice planets (fucked the tour guides), and surfed solar flares (got blown by the safety instructor). Later, though, after they'd been travelling about a year, he started to tell Ianto about his childhood in Berenice and about the Academy, about joining the army at sixteen, about the endless wars of the 51st century.

Ianto talked about growing up in Torfaen. Jack was fascinated. He wanted to know all the minutiae. Did Ianto play football as a kid? What had been his favourite cereal? Who was his first kiss with? What was his first car?

By unspoken agreement they never talked about the invasion of Cardiff or watching the Hub go up in flames, or the last time they'd seen Gwen or Owen or Tosh.

* * *

They went back to Wales a few times, steering well clear of Cardiff and the 21st century. Once, they arrived at lunchtime in Swansea, some day in 2210, and sat in a pub by the seaside. Ianto had been there years ago - centuries ago - on a summer holiday. Before Torchwood.

The pub had a gift shop now and it was heritage-listed, but the beer tasted pretty much the same. The room smelled like home. They ate free nuts and pricey Authentic Potato Crisps (made with 85% real potato), and watched Argentina demolish Ghana in the World Cup semi-finals.

"Used to go to matches with my Grandad," Ianto said. "Never liked it much," he confessed. "Bored out of my brain most of the time."

Jack grinned and then surprised him by kissing him right there in the pub. Ianto started to glance around nervously before he remembered he was out of his time. No one had given them a second look - they wouldn't, not in the 23rd century. He'd almost thought he was back home - just for a moment.

"We could go somewhere else," Jack said, perhaps misinterpreting his look.

"No, I like it," Ianto said. "Feels familiar, you know?"

Back at the ship, Ianto watered the plants. He made coffee (some things never changed). Then he checked the local news reports for any signs of the Time Agency. There were none. News threads seemed linear, the missing persons rate was stable. After a while, Ianto wandered back to the engine room.

"Coffee?" he said.

Jack stuck his head out from under a panel. He'd been tinkering with the navigational system on and off for days. "You're an angel from heaven," he said. He wiped his hands off on his jeans, leaving a greenish stain. The inner systems of the ship were full of green slime. ("Temporal lubricant," Jack had explained once. "You find it in a lot of early-model ships." He'd grinned. "Good for sinus problems, too." Ianto hadn't known if he was joking about the last bit.)

"I'm almost done here," Jack said now, taking the mug. "Any thoughts on where we should go next?"

"I've been thinking, actually," Ianto said, "that I'd like to see Berenice. I'd like to see where you grew up."

"Huh," Jack said. His hands must have been stiff from work, because he flexed his fingers a few times before answering. "Me, I'd rather go somewhere fun. The 20s, maybe. Paris in the 20s. There's a fantastic bar on Rue Daunou that makes the best Jack Rose you ever tasted." He smiled a little. "It was named after me, you know. Bartender really liked my-"

"Jack," Ianto interrupted gently. After two years of dodging the Time Agency and exploring space and time with Jack, he knew how good Jack was at prevaricating. "You've seen Wales. I want to see where you grew up."

"All right," Jack said. He was still flexing his fingers, as though they hurt. "We can do that." He drained his mug, and passed it back to Ianto. "We'll need to make a few stops along the way, though."

* * *

The first stop was Paris in the 20s.

"Well, I'm going to need a drink first," Jack said defensively when the Eiffel Tower appeared in the ship's window. "Haven't been home in about a century." Ianto snorted, but he let Jack take his hand and lead him outside.

At Rue Daunou the bartender did seem pretty fond of Jack. He muttered sweet French nothings into Jack's ear, and slipped him a handwritten address with the drinks. Ianto shook his head, amused. "You're lucky I'm not a jealous man," he said.

Jack raised his drink to toast him. "I'm lucky and I know it," he said. He sounded serious.

* * *

The second stop was a tiny, rundown cafe a few streets down from the bar. Night had fallen by then. Jack produced a torch from somewhere and handed it to Ianto silently. Ianto switched it on, and pointed it at the keyhole.

"Pre-CCTV," Jack said, as he picked the lock. "I love it."

Inside, the cafe was even more rundown than it had looked from the outside. When Jack nudged him to shine the torch at a skirting board, Ianto could see mould growing at the edges of the wallpaper.

"Please tell me we're not stocking up on food here," he whispered.

Jack laughed. He went to the bit of wall he'd pointed at, and then knelt and began peeling the bottom edge of the wallpaper gently - God, with his bare hands. Ianto wanted to soak his own hands in disinfectant just from watching.

After a moment, a section of paper came up, easily and cleanly as a sheet from a notepad. Underneath, there was a safe with a digital keypad. Jack tapped a code briskly. "Whole place gets blown to bits in 1940," he said before Ianto could ask. "Including the safe."

He reached inside, and a second later he had a sleek grey gun in his hand. It was as long as Ianto's forearm. Definitely not from the 20s. Ianto shivered. Jack reached in again, and pulled out two smaller guns and then some cartridges. "Spare batteries," he said. His mouth was tight and grim. He looked at Ianto. "You still want to do this?"

Ianto didn't think he did at all. But Jack had grown up there, he thought. Jack had been a child there. He swallowed. "I'd like to see it. I just- If you don't mind going back, I want to see it."

"All right." Jack closed the safe. When he smoothed the wallpaper back down, there wasn't a trace of what lay beneath. His eyes were harder than Ianto had seen in a long time. "Let's go somewhere with a bit more space," he said. He handed Ianto one of the smaller guns. "You'll need to know how to use this."

* * *

When Jack was satisfied that Ianto could shoot the blaster reasonably straight, he made him practice some unarmed self-defence.

Then after that, he gave him loads of rules, like: "Don't try to bargain at the markets; best way to start a fight". And "Keep clear of the elderly; they're often better armed than anyone". And "If you hear a siren, head for the yellow shelters". And "If I start to run, you _run like hell_".

"Is that all then?" Ianto said, a little exasperated.

"No," Jack said. He slipped his arms around Ianto's waist, brushed Ianto's mouth with his own. "There are bombs and armed gangs and people disappear off the streets. And strangers are suspicious. And music is banned. And there's rationing, so the food sucks." He kissed Ianto properly. "Can't we go to the 40s? Same danger, more fun."

Ianto leaned his head against Jack's. "Show me where you come from Jack," he said. "Please."

Jack nodded against his forehead. They stood there, leaning against each other for a while. Then Jack took Ianto's hand and led him back to the ship, holding the door open so that Ianto could walk through.

The End


End file.
